


Lipgloss and Lollipops

by Shadows_of_Starlight



Series: The Adventures of Bunny and Starshine [1]
Category: Gravitation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2646287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadows_of_Starlight/pseuds/Shadows_of_Starlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Shu gets a brand new perspective on several things he thought he already knew inside and out. Namely in regards to his own potential (in bed and out).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lipgloss and Lollipops

Lipgloss and Lollipops

: Who knew that Shuichi had it in him? Well, Tohma does now.

Alcohol was so much fun in moderate amounts, and even better in larger quantities, Shuichi decided, finishing his sixth drink of the evening. He could almost see why Eiri indulged so often, though, he preferred real liquor or mixed drinks to the beer that his former lover favored. He immediately grimaced, and pushed –those- thoughts far, far away from him. Thinking about that, their failed mess of a relationship, was a good part of the reason why he was drinking tonight anyway, and continuing to dwell on them would only lead to trouble, na no da.

He blanched. Clearly he’d been spending too much time with Sakuma-san lately if his friend’s tag phrase was trying to embed itself into his vocabulary, and that just wouldn’t do. While he –had- always sought to emulate Ryuichi, he didn’t want to BE the guy. The world just might explode in a glorious shower of glitter if there were two of them.

Shu let his head drop to the table in despair, pointedly ignoring Hiro’s not-so-subtle concerned glances in between playing footsie with K-san under the table, and Fujisaki’s irritated expression, but it wasn’t as though –that- was anything new. 

Damn. He’d killed his own buzz, and that was just plain sad.

He stared blankly into the crowd, unimpressed, as all of the writhing bodies seemed to blend into each other. One fish, two fish, he thought sardonically. There was an unending number of fish in that sea of debauchery, but none held his attention for any length of time when there were so many pretty, multi-colored lights to look at instead. However, he began to gain a bit of interest as one, managed to draw his attention away from the seizure-inducing flickers.

He moved beautifully, Shuichi noted dumbly, transfixed as he watched. God, he was like a cat, or something equally slinky and sensuous, and Shuichi found that he couldn’t look away. He tried, because it couldn’t be healthy, or prudent, to stare so intensely at anyone for so long, but just couldn’t find the willpower to do so.

He hadn’t yet turned around, so Shuichi didn’t have a face to put with the rest of him, which was a ~damn shame if the rest of him was anything to go by. But, if he had, then he probably never would have had the courage to drain his seventh drink (that he didn’t remember ordering, let alone drinking), getting up off of his ass, and making his way to the dance floor.

It took a bit of doing, to weave through the crowd as tightly packed as it was, but Shu managed well enough, all things considered. He insinuated himself near the man who’d completely captured his attention, and as casually as he could manage, brushed against him on ‘accident.’

“Dance with me?” Shuichi asked near his ear, not quite daring to touch him yet, and three things happened in short order. First, the dancer paused to peer over his shoulder and upon seeing Shuichi, let his eyes scan him up and down before settling on his face, and evidently didn’t find him entirely repulsive because he turned the rest of the way around to face him. Second, Shu was all but –drowned- in the sucker punch of desire for the first time in a very, very long time. Third, he realized that he was looking into the far-too-young-for-his-age-face of his BOSS, the one and only Seguchi Tohma. He’d just approached his superior. In a bar. On the dance floor. With the intention of most likely hitting on him. Well, shit.

“S-seguchi-san! I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was you! I’m SO sorry! I’ll go throw myself off of a bridge now…” Shu babbled frantically, and about came unglued when Seguchi –laughed- at him, before putting his hands in places that his boss had no business touching, and yanking him forward by the sparkly tie he wore.

“Don’t cause such a scene, Shindou-kun. –No-one- knows who I am here,” Seguchi said quietly. The ‘And I intend to keep it that way,’ did not need to be spoken for Shuichi to understand its implication perfectly. “In any case, if you’re on a dance floor, you should dance,” he continued. “You don’t stick out so much, and run less risk of being trampled if you keep moving.”

“Oh. Right! Of course you’re right,” Shu stammered, wondering where in the hell to put his hands, but eventually settled for Seguchi’s right shoulder, and the left side of his waist.

“I didn’t necessarily mean with me,” Tohma said with a quirked eyebrow, and chuckled when Shuichi pulled his hands back as though scalded. “That was a joke, Shindou-kun.”

Shuichi was frozen in movement, and it was really rather amusing, to Tohma at any rate. “I, um, ha ha,” he laughed nervously. “I see how it is. Pick on Shuichi night, is it?”

Tohma smiled. “Of course,” he agreed, re-situating Shuichi’s hands in their respective places, and a bit disjointedly at first, they began to dance.

Once the initial bump had been passed, Tohma acknowledged that when he wasn’t being a total spaz, Shindou could move better than he’d have expected, and he imagined that he’d do even better if he’d relax a little. “You really ought to loosen up, Shindou-kun,” he chastened gently. “Right now I’m not your boss, so, -relax.-“

Shu sighed, but with the slowly exhaled breath, he did so, at least a touch. It seemed he’d managed to surprise Tohma at any rate.

He’d shifted his hands, which inadvertently brought the blond closer, and began to move his hips more smoothly as well. ‘Oh,’ Tohma thought with a small jolt of approval, moving against him, chancing a glance up, and immediately wished that he hadn’t.

Shuichi was looking at him closely, following his movements fluidly, and his gaze was surprisingly intense. It was hard to catch his breath, which he was afraid had very little to do with the atmosphere, and much more to do with the body pressed so tightly against his. Had he been a little more oriented, he might have responded differently when a soft voice reached the shell of his ear.

“Drink?” Shuichi asked.

Sober Tohma would have politely declined. However, Shuichi was not dancing with Sober Tohma, but rather Slightly Intoxicated Tohma, who replied, “Okay,” and followed Shu back to his now-deserted table.

His friends were irredeemable bastards, Shuichi decided, staring forlornly down into the bottom of his ninth drink of the evening, hyperaware of the man next to him.

Slightly Intoxicated Tohma was well on his way to becoming Drunk Tohma, and Drunk Tohma was an entirely different breed of animal altogether.

“Do you play DDR, Shuichi-kun?” Drunk Tohma asked, sucking on an ice cube thoughtfully. That last drink, or two, or three, evidently bridged the gap quite nicely.

Shuichi paused in the middle of submerging his brain in a pleasant haze of alcohol to look at him curiously, and promptly realized what a mistake that had been. Tohma’s tongue was wrapped around that piece of ice (damned lucky piece of ice), a vivid pink from the cold, and Shu tried and failed (abysmally) not to stare again.

“I’m a little, ah, out of practice, but yeah,” Shuichi replied belatedly, incredibly proud of himself for not stuttering in light of the whole ‘well, that’s hot,’ thing.

Tohma smiled wickedly, and drew that ice cube across his lips, which made them impossibly glossy and inviting, and into his mouth, where it evidently melted on contact. Was his mouth really that warm? Oh god, he should NOT be having thoughts like that about his boss!!! Shu heavily contemplated beating his head against the table until those thoughts disappeared one way or another.

“Then let’s ~play,” Tohma said, and stood up with way more steadiness than anyone with his blood alcohol content should be able to, and drained the remainder of his scotch in one go without making a face at all.

Before Shuichi had time to process what was happening, he was grabbed by the wrist and dragged well away from the relative safety of knocking a few dozen neurons loose prematurely, and instead into the arcade; that is to say, into the arms of the devil himself.

Shu hadn’t even known that this place had an arcade. Then again, maybe it didn’t, unless you had enough money to buy one of your own.

He quickly discovered just how drunk and rusty he was when he stepped up onto the platform, chose a song at random, and selected Medium. He didn’t think that he was doing too badly after such a long hiatus—until he looked to the left.

Seguchi-san was breezing through Expert without so much as breaking a sweat. Shuichi’s inadequacy knew no bounds.

“Well, fuck,” he said with a laugh, and re-adjusted the difficulty to Hard. At least that was less of a blow to his fragile ego.

He received one lone, sidelong glance, before Seguchi-san moved to his next song, and upped the level another notch (what the hell was past Expert, anyway, Maniac or something?) and caused Shu to stumble as he craned his neck to watch. He’d recognize those chords anywhere, and ‘Shining Collection’ was one of the most difficult songs to play in the history of ~ever. His jaw slowly dropped towards the floor, as his feet stopped bothering to even –try.- 

Tohma finished with a flawless combination, flashing Shuichi a smile as he tossed his head back, cheeks only slightly flushed.

“Good god. You nailed that thing to the wall!” Shu said, possibly in shock. “Alright. Alright. I surrender. You,” he gestured unnecessarily to Tohma, “are the indisputable King of DDR. I’m going to owe Sakuma-san a trillion pieces of candy,” he laughed again, and brushed his bangs away from his face, leaning back against the machine for support.

“Fantastic! So,” Seguchi asked, taking a step forward into Shu’s personal space, “what do I ~win, Shu-i-chi?” Alarm bells chimed faintly in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t hear them very well over the rush of blood to his head as Tohma’s nimble fingers slid up the length of his arm.

His mouth went dry. “Uh, well, umm, hah-that tickles! Sometimes people who win things get trophies, or flowers, or, um, kisses I think?” He was talking out of his head, having No Idea what to do with his boss invading his personal space, and touching him. And he shouldn’t smell so damn good after all but swimming in scotch, dancing in such a crowded space, and then he lost count of how many blistering rounds of DDR. Ohgodhewastooclose!

Tohma chuckled, and the sound reverberated against Shuichi’s chest. “Kisses are nice. We’ll go with kisses. A kiss for every point?” he asked with interest, his demon’s fingers now walking up Shuichi’s ribcage.

Shu swallowed, and would have taken a step back, but sort of couldn’t, as his back was pressed up against a rather stubborn DDR machine. “I-I’m not sure if I can count that high.” He laughed, or tried to at the least. Too close! He could count Tohma’s –eyelashes.-

He was fairly certain that Seguchi-san purred. “Don’t worry, Shuichi-kun,” and his arms were around Shu’s neck. “I can,” he whispered, not two centimetres away from his lips.

“Oh god…” Shuichi whimpered, wondering when the hell his hands had migrated to Seguchi’s hips.

Tohma laughed again, the rush of air tingling against his lips. Shuichi could –taste- the scotch. “God? Maybe. But you can call me Tohma.”

Shuichi’s brain sort of skidded to a halt against his skull at the very evident realization that Seguchi Tohma was coming onto him. Just what was he supposed to do with that, exactly?

“I can?” he blurted out without thinking, the way he sometimes did. It was hard to think much of anything with someone pressed up against him like that. It had been so long… He whined as Tohma leaned forward, which brought them into contact that had Shu’s nerves dancing the Lambada under his skin.

It was a stupid thing to say of course, so Shuichi didn’t blame Tohma for not answering him aloud; the lips that brushed over his, though, and the smile that graced them, were answer enough. He never would have thought that the first person to touch him like this after, well, after, would be his boss turned roommate out of necessity. But he hadn’t felt… wanted in what seemed like years.

Shuichi realized that he should probably do something, rather than stand there like an idiot. He slowly began to respond, rubbing his lips against Tohma’s, and smiled when he felt the shudder that ran through the other man’s body. Encouraged, he slid a hand up from his hip, over his stomach, up and over his chest, briefly flirted with the edge of his collarbone, and stroked a finger down the side of his neck, and wasn’t that a pretty noise Tohma made when he did so, before running his hand through Tohma’s hair which slipped through his fingers like silk. 

For such a hard man, Tohma was remarkably, soft, and his mouth wasn’t nearly so sharp up close, Shuichi discovered. Especially as Shu grew a bit more daring, and followed the seam of soft lips with the edge of his tongue, and drew his lower lip into his mouth, sucking on it gently. He used just the tiniest hint of teeth, and Tohma moaned into his mouth. This was quite possibly the hottest sound Shuichi had ever heard, but not quite the place for them to, er, continue.

Regretfully in need of air, he pulled back slowly, and buried his nose in Tohma’s neck, placing a gentle kiss there before resting his forehead against Tohma’s. He really needed to catch his breath, get a grip on the fact that apparently he was INCREDIBLY attracted to his superior, and try to think with his brain, rather than his lust-crazy hormones.

“We should… probably, not continue this here,” he managed to say, daring to look up into deeply green eyes.

Tohma –pouted, - and really, it shouldn’t have been half as adorable as it was. Shuichi was going to hell.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Tohma said after a moment, licking his lips thoughtfully, and tasted Shuichi there. He was almost painfully sweet. Quite a change from his usual fare, but he could possibly get used to that. “Alright. Let’s go then,” he said, giving Shuichi an unreadable look, before linking their fingers together, and making for the entrance.

Shuichi’s brain was still stuck on the whole ‘being attracted to Tohma’ epiphany when suddenly they were moving, and fast. The alcohol swimming through his bloodstream didn’t think this was such a good idea, and he saw in triplicate for a while, until they reached the sliding glass doors that would usher them out into the parking lot of the club, air made thick under an overcast sky, and doubly so by the low-hanging cover of lingering cigarette smoke.

The chill night air caressed his cheeks, and alarm bells rang in Shu’s head for a different reason entirely.

“Seguchi-san, I really don’t think you should drive,” he started to say in caution, but a soft, slim fingertip against his lips shushed him effectively.

“I won’t be, Shuichi-kun.” He seemed to be placing considerable emphasis on Shuichi’s first name as they turned to face the shiny black car that came to a stop in front of them. “My driver will.” He smiled briefly, before opening the door, and following him in after.

“Back home, if you please,” Tohma said cordially to the driver, before putting up the privacy screen, and rounding on Shuichi unexpectedly.

“Now. I do believe I told you to call me Tohma, didn’t I?” he asked, crawling across the leather seat to settle himself in Shuichi’s lap, strong, smooth thighs straddling him.

Shuichi swallowed -hard. He was fucking crawling. “Yes. I’m sorry. It’ll just take some getting used to…” he trailed off at the rather feral glint in Tohma’s gaze, and bit down on his lower lip as the gorgeous man in his lap rolled his hips in a very enticing way.

“Ah!” Shu gasped, unable to keep it back, but this just seemed to further encourage the blonde wolf in club clothing currently situated between his legs.

“You do have rather a lovely voice, Shuichi; I think I want to hear more of it,” he said, turning his head to deftly trace the curve of his ear with a knowing tongue.

Shuichi squirmed under the attention, and had to do, to do –something.- He slid his hands up Tohma’s thighs cautiously, they were the closest thing within reach, and made the trek back down them slowly, his nails scraping roughly over the denim. Tohma moaned at the contact, and Shu was twice damned. 

He gave up trying to puzzle this bizarre attraction out. Tohma would hate him in the morning, and then they’d go back to how things were before, so it wasn’t worth wasting time and effort over it, not when there was such a lithe body pressed up against his, demanding and yielding at the same time.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered quietly against Tohma’s lips before setting about learning the subtle nuances of his mouth, and what it took to eke such fascinating noises from the normally reserved throat that Shu was currently paying rapt attention to.

His lips left little sparks behind them as they traversed the length of the smooth skin on display. Tohma was fairly certain that they held the potential to burn him. Perhaps he could be interested in that. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with someone so openly responsive, and so obviously, affected, by him. For now though, he’d simply enjoy it.

A warm hand crept hesitantly beneath his shirt, fingers almost but not quite tickling him as they skidded across his stomach, and Tohma shivered. Yes. He could very well enjoy this, and voiced his interest aptly as Shu’s fingers swept up his chest and sides, his mouth latching onto the side of his neck, not hard enough to bruise, but only just as his tongue sought to soothe the swiftly reddening skin.

“Shuichi-kun,” he sighed, arching his back as the singer’s nails skidded down the path of his spine. He wouldn’t have expected Shuichi to capitulate to taking the lead so easily. Then again, this was just the warm up, so, there was still plenty of opportunity for him to balk.

He received a muffled noise in answer.

“You still owe me 450, 129 kisses,” Tohma said matter-of-factly, feeling rather than hearing Shuichi’s laugh against his neck.

“Do I?” he asked, lips evidently done marking his skin (for now), hovering just out of reach, though his voice was teasing, not cruel, for which he was decidedly appreciative. Tohma had had more than his share of cruelty to last a lifetime, thanks.

“Are you seriously going to keep count?” Shuichi asked with a laugh in his voice, kissing the side of his neck gently, thumbs now following the curve of his hipbones.

His touches were soft and light, like wisps of cotton candy, or perhaps a dream. Tohma wasn’t altogether sure what to make of that. Shuichi was perhaps deeper than he’d first supposed, or else Tohma was less shallow. He puzzled over it for a while, until the cautious hands and slightly more zealous mouth had coaxed his mind into a state of nearly-stoned bliss. Goodness, but it had been some time since he’d responded to someone quite so, animatedly.

“Maybe, Shuichi-kun,” he replied easily enough, “but first… Race you inside,” Tohma said playfully as the car began to slow.

Shuichi looked up at him in surprise. Maybe this was why the president didn't drink often. He was awfully... receptive. He'd go with receptive. Just because Tohma was six kinds of smashed didn't mean that his spooky mind powers were smashed as well.

"A race?" he asked with the tiniest hint of a smirk. Shu's brain might sometimes lag behind, but his feet were fast enough. "You're on."

Tohma's eyes glinted at that in the comfortable dark of the backseat, but the look subsided almost immediately in the presence of a passing headlight. "See you inside then, Shuichi," and a firm kiss met his lips, full of hidden promise. Shu shuddered and scarcely noticed when the door opened, and Tohma hit the ground running.

He’d best get moving then.

Shu unbuckled his seat belt and followed after him on quick (if a bit unsteady) feet, pausing at the entryway to remove his shoes, but only for as long as it took to kick them off, and nudge them in the same general direction as one another.

His sock clad feet skidded and slid over the hardwood floors before coming to a rolling stop just outside of the master bedroom. Tohma hadn't exactly specified -where- they were racing to, and he didn't want to come off too forward or presumptuous, but he didn't especially want to stand at the door all night either... So, with a low rush of breath, and his heart hammering in his ears, he slowly turned the handle.

Of any number of scenarios that Shuichi might have expected (read fantasized about) or prepared himself for, an empty room hadn’t even factored into the equation. He attempted to rationalize where he ought to look for Tohma, though logic eluded him in light of the copious amount of liquor he’d imbibed that evening (but with any luck he wasn’t hiding somewhere laughing his ass off at Shu, because that would suck SO much) when a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind. Shuichi could question the sense of relaxing in the presence of mysterious embraces from persons unknown in the dark later; for now he was just too relieved to care about trivial things like sanity.

“Too slow,” Tohma murmured, his voice barely discernible over the rat-a-tat-tat of Shuichi’s heart.

It wasn’t a position terribly conducive to conversation, Shuichi noted absently. “Is there a penalty?” he asked, leaning his head back to peer at him. Damn, the man was still pretty, even upside down.

“You could say that,” Tohma replied evenly, voice warmed by amusement, and something Shuichi came to identify as lust. He’d never experienced it this way before.

Shu wondered what it felt like to kiss someone upside down, but he didn’t get the chance to find out because they were suddenly moving. He didn’t remember telling his legs to go anywhere, so evidently his theory was correct, and Tohma’s spooky mind powers were indeed still in full swing.

It was hard to tell who started it this time, the spiral dance born of passion and possession. They laughed and shivered with sheer want even in the short time it took to reach the bed, which was in and of itself a thing of beauty, all dark, cherry wood, and fluffy relief that might well consume lesser beings, should they prove to be inadequate.

They spun around one another like the sun and the moon; light and dark, opposite while still complementary. Shuichi had no idea how he’d managed to land on top at the end of the tilt o’ whirl journey, but the view was even better than the ocean at sunset.

Tohma’s white blonde hair stood out in sharp relief against the rich black of the nearest pillow, fanned out slightly over the silk, and tousled from their brief but enlightening impromptu wrestling match (as well as Shuichi’s fingers; they really seemed to love Tohma’s hair). He took a moment while they were slightly out of breath to really look at Tohma. His eyes were dilated with lust and the dark, outlined in kohl which only drew him further in, and watching Shu right back. His cheeks were flushed with color, and his lips were parted a little, inviting and quirked up at the corners in what was quite possibly a real smile. Tohma should definitely smile more.

He looked far too good in his club wear, which was currently in the way of Shuichi’s perusal. Very rude of it, even if he had spent a good portion of the evening admiring the way the blonde looked in it.

He wasn’t sure when his hips had settled over Tohma’s, nor when he’d begun to help his traitorous shirt along as it exposed an enticing section of abdomen, but he did clearly recall caressing the side of Tohma’s face almost reverently.

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he said around a suddenly dry throat before leaning down to kiss him. It was Tohma’s fault he couldn’t swallow properly, or think outside of incoherent snippets of words like yes and gorgeous and now, now, now after all, so it was only fair that he do something about it. Shuichi was a firm believer in fair exchange.

Shuichi couldn’t say for sure when he’d lost his shirt, being a little too concerned with trying to rid Tohma of the mesh contraption he wore, and kissing him senseless, which was a glorious plan in and of itself, because holy god, but the president looked fan-fucking-tastic that way.

Shu licked his lips subconsciously, and looked confused. Beneath the burn of the scotch that his boss drank like water (seriously, was he part German or something? No, that wasn’t right, they drank beer), he tasted something sweet, and slightly sticky.

“Are you… wearing lipgloss?” Shuichi asked incredulously.

Tohma giggled. He giggled for fuck’s sake. “Yes, well, I was anyway. I believe that most of it has been transferred to your lips now, Shuichi-kun. Bubblegum, actually. Ryuichi’s favorite flavor.” He slid up in a crazy, slow arch of his back, which brought him level with Shuichi, and traced his lips with his tongue. “I suppose I can see the appeal.”

Shuichi’s brain short-circuited with a sizzle and a pop. “I’m never going to be able to think straight, again,” he said, the hysteria possibly creeping into his voice. But his upsurge of fanboy induced delirium was brought to a screeching halt by a completely unexpected reaction.

“You know something, Tohma?” he asked against the blonde’s shoulder.

“Mmm?” Tohma replied, currently exploring Shuichi’s chest with curious fingers. The singer was as lean as he’d supposed, though his touch encountered muscle more often than not.

“While a part of my soul died and went to Grasper heaven, I really don’t want Sakuma-san kissing you anymore,” Shu muttered, nipping at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and drawing the skin over his teeth, applying adequate force to mark him this time. “I don’t think I want to share you.” He felt Tohma shudder against him.

It had never been quite like this before, when he wanted to… wanted to…

Shu slid his fingers through Tohma’s hair, kneading gently at the base of his neck as he brushed his lips over the blonde’s.

“Awfully possessive, aren’t you, Shuichi-kun?” Tohma teased, though broke off into a gasp when Shuichi sank his teeth into Tohma’s neck hard enough to make the surrounding skin tingle. The delicious noise he made when Shu inadvertently nudged his legs apart and slipped his thigh between them, was an unexpected bonus.

Tohma didn’t seem to mind as Shu pressed experimentally against him, coaxing his tongue into the enticing warmth of his mouth.

Shuichi could nearly equate it to being on stage, the roll of his hips to the roar of the blood through his veins, rhythm pounding in his ears. He really had no idea what he was doing, but he could try. He was beginning to suspect, even through the fog of alcoholic bliss, that he’d be, er, pitching, this game, and that was quite a stretch for someone who’d only ever caught the damn ball.

“Something on your mind, Shuichi-kun?” Tohma asked, watching him from beneath lowered lashes as he deliberately flicked his tongue over his lips.

“You mean besides you?” Shuichi replied without thinking, nose to nose with him. That wasn’t playing fair, almost but not quite touching him like that. Sneaky bunny.

Tohma laughed; a pretty, effervescent sound that flitted around in Shuichi’s mind like champagne. “Yes, besides that.”

Shu took a deep breath. “I’ve never, umm, that is… I’ve never, been in control, before,” he said cautiously.

Tohma merely smirked at him. “And just what gave you the impression that you would be this time either?” he inquired, slowly dragging his tongue over white, white teeth. “Even if you ~do manage to fuck me into the mattress? That doesn’t mean you’re in control of –anything.- I own your ass, Shindou Shuichi, and don’t you dare forget it. Now,” and his tone did an about-face while Shuichi’s brain struggled to catch up (in its defense, it had been through some pretty significant trauma that evening, and was therefore fuzzy and possibly hibernating at the moment), “get that ass back down here, and finish what you started.”

Shuichi wanted to point out that he hadn’t actually started anything, but somewhere around the bit where Tohma said, well, when he opened his mouth, Shu’s brain gave up the ghost altogether. The only sort of acknowledgement Shuichi could muster was ‘guh,’ which wasn’t terribly articulate, so, he kept his silence, and instead, splayed warm fingers over Tohma’s hip, plying the skin just beyond the waistband of his unlawfully tight pants, and let his mind idle, conscious thought effectively dissolving into something delightful and transient, like butterflies, while instinct drove him ahead.

It didn’t matter that he was scared out of his mind, and praying to any deity at all who might potentially be listening that he wouldn’t fuck it up, because Tohma was really, really pretty, and Shu wasn’t in control anyway. He wasn’t positive, but he thought (with the fleeting corner of his mind still in operation, that place that told him to breathe, and to learn what his would-be lover liked as though his life depended on it), that he could come to rather like the unique position of submitting from above. 

This time, there was no hesitation when Shuichi kissed him; there was no point in trying to fight a battle that you didn’t want to win, after all. He wanted to take his time, ensure that Tohma would remember this, remember him, among the undoubtedly more skilled lovers the blonde had surely encountered over time. Shuichi didn’t want to be underestimated, and set about imprinting himself in Tohma’s memory. Maybe he couldn’t measure up in terms of experience, but he could more than make up for it with enthusiasm and explicit attention to detail. So many people overlooked the small details, but not Shuichi.

Shu liked to learn and memorize. It meant more that way. He would never be so casually brushed aside again. So it was with gentle insistence that he worked his way past Tohma’s lips, tickling the roof of his mouth with a quick flick of his tongue, stroking the soft palate languidly as he thumbed the button of Tohma’s pants.

Not yet, he decided, and perhaps to Tohma’s disappointment, his hand migrated away from the fastening, only pausing to follow the curve of his side as he worked his way up Tohma’s chest, pressing forward and tilting Tohma’s head back to better explore his mouth, nipping and sucking at his lips and tongue, kissing him until they were both breathless and more than a little dizzy.

It was mostly oxygen deprivation that caused Tohma’s pulse to hammer, and his head to feel as though it had been systematically beaten with a velvet glove; he was sure. He would decide to decide later, how he felt about this fuzzy sensation; later, when he wasn’t staring Shuichi in the face as he debated on how best to undress him.

It really wasn’t fair, the way he looked like that underneath him, Shuichi thought wildly. Then Tohma nipped at the inside of his wrist, an area he hadn’t known to be sensitive, and Shuichi was utterly lost, drifting in sea green eyes as they laughed at him, though not unkindly. Hand basket to hell, meet Shindou Shuichi. Shindou Shuichi meet hand basket to hell. Act now, and get a second for no additional charge. Postage and handling covered for the mere cost of one immortal soul. This offer available for a limited time only while supplies last.

He’d take the lot, thanks, and damn the consequences.

That was always the problem with Shuichi. He tended to act rather than think, but, God, it had been so long since he’d felt this particular high. Perhaps he could be forgiven, just this once. Perhaps Tohma wouldn’t hate him in the morning.

Waving a cheery farewell to some of his more disparaging thoughts, Shu set about tugging Tohma’s shirt up and over his head, finally (he shouldn’t be lagging so far behind, really, but, his brain had melted a long ass time ago, so, he figured he could cut himself a little slack, just this once). He shuddered as they came into skin on skin contact, and rocked his hips experimentally as his fingers explored the enticing hollow formed between hip and pelvis. 

“I, I really don’t know what I’m doing,” he muttered against the dip of Tohma’s abdomen, lips and tongue skittish but maddening as they danced across a denim-clad thigh. 

“I suggest that you figure it out quickly,” Tohma said, tone full of mischief, but not malice (and for that, Shu was thankful). “Because I don’t think you’d survive… disappointing me.”

If Shuichi looked at this like another performance, he just might come out on the other side. Maybe.

“Guess I’d better stop stalling then, huh?” Shu replied, grin a sight more confident than he felt. Keep lying to yourself long enough and you’ll start to believe it, nee?

Finally, someone had the good sense to undress the rest of the way, and Shu would never forget the way that Tohma looked, splayed out wanting and sparkling with glitter and sweat beneath him. He heard a faint pinging sound just then, and imagined it to be either his sanity or his soul, but couldn’t especially be bothered to care.

“God… I want you,” Shuichi murmured, mesmerized.

“Then what are you waiting for, Shu-i-chi? An invitation?” Drunk and considerably aroused Tohma asked, catching Shuichi’s gaze just as he arched his back, and slid a gloved hand (for the love of Nittle Grasper, why was he still wearing gloves?) down his chest and stomach, and further still, parting his legs ~just so.

Shuichi was pretty sure that he flat-lined right then and there.

And there was no turning back, was there?

Shuichi didn’t really know what he was getting himself into, but just maybe, it was everything he never knew he’d been searching for. He exhaled slowly, nose and lips brushing over Tohma’s neck so softly that it might have tickled before placing warm, nipping kisses along his throat. That slow, steady thrumming in his blood began to burn a little brighter, and perhaps it wasn’t only the siren’s song of lust that sparked between them.

But that could be addressed later, when other needs were less pressing (and the picture that Tohma presented, reaching out for –him-, kohl lined eyes dilated and drawing him further down the rabbit hole, would remain crystal clear in Shuichi’s memory for all of eternity).

To say that he was nervous would be a gross understatement to rival all understatements in their considerable history, but that had never stopped him before, had it?

Dominance as it was typically depicted may not have been his forte, however, if Shu were to look at it another way, the exploration of another’s body; the careful attention to learning what made Tohma gasp and squirm and pant, the single-minded devotion to the pleasure of someone else, now, that wasn’t so hard.

Shuichi’s touch was incredibly gentle at first, fingers smoothing over Tohma’s hip and side, making his way gradually downward, eliciting delicious noises from the president as he continued. Encouraged, he paid meticulous attention to the glistening skin below him, goosebumps prickling across Tohma’s body in response to the increasingly daring pressure of Shu’s hands.

Without any sort of warning, something shifted irrevocably.

Maybe it was simply the reaction to diligent, concentrated affection. Maybe it was the way that Tohma’s breath hitched in the back of his throat, words of praise or exasperation lost in the space between them. Or maybe it was just a most fortuitous accident. The underlying reason was actually of little importance as Shuichi finally said, fuck it; he could do this, goddammit. 

Electricity was a living thing, singing under Shuichi’s fingertips and skittering across Tohma’s skin like so many butterflies. Tohma thought, distantly, that he might have heard a song like that, once upon a dream ago. 

But that was then (which was long since past, and done and gone), and this was now, with too-careful hands that almost shook as though one of them might break, all coherency drowned in the rising desperation of mouths that bit, and craved, and took.

Hesitation was forgotten, abandoned along with their clothes. Shuichi’s fingers tightened in Tohma’s hair, and biting at his neck, hard, right hand scoring the blond’s skin with the heat of his palm as it wrapped around his length at last. He stroked firmly although somewhat unsteadily, terribly distracted by the bowstring taut arch of Tohma’s spine when the pad of his thumb pressed against the vein. Finding the patience to provide some sort of preparation was one of the single most difficult tasks that Shuichi had ever been burdened with in his nineteen years.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t wait anymore,” he panted through gritted teeth, painting Tohma’s throat with his words, and very nearly embarrassed himself into an early grave by coming on the spot just because Tohma spoke. To be fair, he looked impossibly depraved, leaning into Shuichi’s touch as though he needed it, lips heavy from insistent kisses, and the way he’d whispered “please,” had done very interesting things to Shuichi’s head.

Shu had absolutely no idea how a jar of something slick and faintly vanilla scented had migrated into his hand, but he could overlook the mystery in light of answering other questions. Like finding out just how it felt to have Tohma’s thighs pressed tightly around his hips, and discovering a way to simulate a heart attack. Sex, who knew, right?

But even the very real potential of death by intercourse couldn’t deter a resolute Shuichi.

He focused hard on trying to adjust to the vice grip of smooth muscles that seemed to be driving him to the brink of insanity in short order, and breathing. He didn’t imagine that Tohma would forgive him for passing out, even if this was one of the most surreal yet exhilarating experiences of his life. Before long, he even remembered to move, experimentally rolling his hips the way he sometimes did during a song onstage. 

Tohma hissed at the slow burn, and promptly forgot that he ought to protest when Shuichi managed to sidestep the initial awkwardness that he’d been expecting, and instead brushed against his prostate. Repeatedly. How the fuck was he managing to do that? Tohma wanted to know, but it abruptly became difficult to form anything beyond monosyllables because rather than pause and evaluate how he was doing, Shuichi just plunged straight ahead into the unknown, and… sweet god, redoubling his speed. At some point while Tohma was asking rapid-fire questions in his head, Shu had leaned forward, practically bending him in half, pulling his head back to dig his teeth into the column of his neck and creating leverage that would have put a practiced lover to shame when he shifted Tohma’s left leg up and over his shoulder, right hand clasping his hip so tightly that it was bound to bruise. 

All the better to pound you into the mattress, my dear.

To be honest, he couldn’t care less at the moment, and only because he was still Drunk Tohma, whimpered a little in response (really, he swore it was JUST the alcohol). The sound brought Shuichi’s lips back to his in a kiss that demanded nothing short of everything he might have to give. Tohma’s neck tingled slightly as blood rushed to the well-tended mark, and oh-shit, if that didn’t just push the swirling pool of ~want into ‘fuck-me-senseless-kay-thanks’ overdrive. 

Had he ached like this before? He couldn’t be sure, and that alone was reason enough to be both cautious and deliriously enticed, caught up in, and overwhelmed by forces unknown that compelled him to move still closer, and –surrender (even though it was impossible to do much of anything else where Shuichi was involved). It really should have been laughable, falling to pieces at such inexperienced hands, but somehow, nothing was more serious as his mouth fell open soundlessly (not that he would have let even a gasp escape anyway, the greedy little…), and his head lolled back, temporarily going blind as he splintered into countless tiny pieces, trying to remember how to breathe as Shu came back into focus above him.

“Ohfuck,” Shuichi muttered harshly, breaking the kiss for the first time in long minutes, and biting down on Tohma’s lower lip with an erratic groan that he felt rather than heard, all but collapsing on top of him, shaking just a little.

“I might just have to keep you,” Tohma managed after a while, turning his head to smile at Shuichi, once speaking wasn’t an insurmountable task because air was a precious commodity best used for breathing.

Shu laughed at that, shifting so that he wasn’t limply sprawled across the blond like some spineless fish or something. “Yeah? You think so?” he asked, sated and sticky, and not terribly concerned about it.

“Yeah,” Tohma replied, and he could berate himself another time for the abysmal deviation from his usual eloquence. It was late. He was pleasantly sore, and didn’t even immediately regret a decision he’d made this evening. He could return to his routine articulation at a later date.

“In that case, you’d better share your blankets,” Shuichi said, hands moving with acute familiarity over exposed flesh to position the covers so that neither of them would wake up frostbitten or something equally undesirable come morning.

“I think I’ve shared plenty, don’t you?” Tohma argued reasonably, although he didn’t deny the other man equitable access to bedclothes.

“Shut up, Bunny,” Shuichi mumbled from somewhere around his collarbone, but Tohma didn’t get the chance to ask just who the hell he thought he was talking to, because he’d snuggled up against him, and fallen dead asleep, arm tucked possessively about his waist.

On one hand, Tohma was all about the cuddles.

On the other, he wasn’t so sure about the questionable nickname business.

But the fact remained that something had changed, and just maybe, it was exactly what they’d been looking for all along.

~La fin


End file.
